The Story of Neil M Belmont
by Kreskin
Summary: Been awhile. This time Neil gets a new ally in his battle against, y'know, evil stuff. He also dies. Nah, not really. Have you ever died? Of course you haven't. That's because you're boring. Neil isn't boring. Read about him. I'm done here.
1. The Legend Begins? ends, maybe?

This is the story of a brave young man, an heir to the title of Vampire Killer. He is Neil M. Belmont. Things begin as they always seem to...  
  
CRASH!!! Lightning strikes from above. It's an eerie night. Dark clouds block the sky, and rain seems eminent, yet never falls.  
  
Gathered in a nameless old temple of unholiness, many souls of sheer depravity stand together in dark robes. They all bow as one steps forward, bearing a chalice filled with blood. Two others quickly come up behind him, bracing their arms around the top of a dusty grave. They remove the lid, and there lies Dracula, the timeless lord of evil.  
  
The followers begin a haunting chant... the two who opened the coffin kneel on either side of the chalice-bearer. He steps forward to the very edge of the grave, and splashes some blood across Dracula. They all chant, and Dracula slowly sits up. Lightning flashes violently, flooding the skies, as Dracula is returned to life!!!  
  
"Lord Dracula, you are reborn!" says the cloaked chalice-bearer.  
  
"I see...." Dracula says, coming to his senses. "So one-hundred years have really passed... death grows boring to me now."  
  
The cloaked one before Dracula nods. "And yet the cycle continues..."  
  
Dracula lifts an eyebrow confusedly. "What do you mean by that? And you know, your blood does smell familiar..."  
  
*BLSCCHT!!!* The bearer heaves a stake straight through Dracula's heart. Dracula gasps and chokes as he sinks back into the coffin. The cloaked followers all stand and stare in shock.  
  
"It was Belmont blood...." the bearer confesses, throwing off his cloak, revealing a teenage Belmont. "Neil M. Belmont!" he says, making sure the followers all hear it. Some attack him, others run. He flogs them all to death with his whip.  
  
He returned home, to receive a cold stare from his father, Terence Belmont.  
  
"You really did it, didn't you?" Terence bitterly inquired.  
  
Neil shrugged. "Yeah."  
  
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Terence asked.  
  
"What?!" Neil argued. "It makes sense! Just be there when he's revived, and then whack him yourself! It saves me a lot of effort, and it's a lot more likely to succeed."  
  
"But the blood of the Belmonts is tainted now... you actually revived the lord of evil yourself!!"  
  
"Feh. It would happen anyway," replied Neil. "I just had to be the guy in front, to make sure I sealed the kill!"  
  
"Dammit! Neil, I swear it, you've ruined the Belmont name! I won't forgive you! I won't let you be the heir to the whip anymore! I'll give it to that nice Schneider boy next door, he's so-"  
  
"DAD!!" yelled Neil. "You always say you're going to do that. It's always 'that nice Schneider boy could do it', or 'Mayor Baldwin's son would take the role seriously'... you're all talk, dad!!"  
  
Terence glared at Neil furiously. "Neil Marcus Belmont!! You are OFFICIALLY STRIPPED of the Belmont family legacy!" He snatched the whip away. "You'll continue the family's secondary trade that we run 99 out of 100 years..."  
  
"Shouldn't have called his bluff..." Neil sighed. "Dad, I really have to run the Kool-Aid stand?!"  
  
"Yes! The Kool-Aid stand has been a Belmont tradition for about 200 years now!"  
  
"Come on, can't I practice my vampire killing?"  
  
"You obviously don't think you need practice, with your disgraceful methods! All you ever did was sleep and get into trouble as a boy, you never did take your training seriously."  
  
"But hey, dad, I'm still proficient with the whip! And I jump pretty well! Isn't that all I need?"  
  
"Fool!" Terence snapped. "After Simon's days, the Belmonts realized that further honing our skills was necessary to defeat Dracula, because Dracula got stronger every time he was revived. Such skills as the Item Crash, the Backflip, the 'Befriend Others Who You Can Switch Between from Level to Level', and let's not forget the 'Find Conveniently Placed Equipment and Skills While Exploring Dracula's Castle'... you, my son, display none of these talents."  
  
"Who cares... I did it my own way and it worked. I'm the cleverest Belmont ever!"  
  
"Well now you don't even have a whip! Pretty darned amazing, son. You'll be famous for being so disgraceful."  
  
"Feh, who needs a whip... I thought lots of guys killed off Dracula, or at least helped, with crap like swords, magic, and of course sub-weapons."  
  
"'Who needs a whip?' How DARE you disgrace the famous Belmont whip! It's been in our family for generations!!"  
  
"It's a freakin' piece of cow ass, dad! I might as well throw daggers at Drac unless I get those powerup thingies and make it metal."  
  
"Get out."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Get out. You lost your inheritance, and now you lose your name! You aren't my son and you're no Belmont!! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!!"  
  
Terence swiftly kicked Neil out of the house.  
  
What will happen to this unorthodox, yet very creative, Belmont? Er, ex- Belmont? Maybe nothing unless someone actually reads this... 


	2. Kangas on the Barby

*Note* the last chapter is in present tense. We are now in past tense. Deal with it!!  
  
When we last left Neil M. Belmont, he was sitting in the dusty, dirty road outside his house. No whip, no last name starting with a B and ending in elmont, he was left with nothing except the personal knowledge that he killed Dracula.  
  
"Now what to do..." he said emptily.  
  
A strange, pale, gaunt individual approached Neil.  
  
"G'day, mate!" the fellow said.  
  
"Um, g'day..." Neil replied. "What's with yer... um... skin?"  
  
"I ain't shore what yer hintin' at there, mate..."  
  
Neil noticed a pair of fangs poking into sight when the fellow spoke. He also noticed the sky was black, and night had fallen.  
  
"You wouldn't... um..."  
  
"Eh? What's that, mate?"  
  
"You wouldn't happen to be Australian, would you?"  
  
"I reckon I would, mate! Mighty keen, aren'cha!"  
  
Neil stood to full posture and dusted himself off.  
  
"You wouldn't happen to be an Australian... VAMPIRE, would you?!"  
  
"Uh..." The fellow looked about, then sighed and looked at Neil again. "I suppose ya got me there, mate... Reckon you might spare a pint o' blood?"  
  
"'Fraid not, mate... I reckon I'm a Belmont! A vampire hunter!!"  
  
"Belmont? You a Belmont?!" The fellow looked quite shocked.  
  
"I reckon he ain't!" Terence yelled out the house window. "This bloke 'ere, I kicked 'im outta me family, what ta live with tha kangas!!"  
  
Neil bore a puzzled expression. "Dad? Y'aint Australian!! Blimey, I'm doin' too!" He noticed the vampire was leaning very close to his neck.  
  
"D'you mind, mate?!" Neil snapped. "Urgh! That's it. I may not be a Belmont anymore, but I'll show you what real vampire killing is all about!!"  
  
He pushed the vampire away. The pale, bony fellow stumbled backwards and tripped over a wagon wheel. He hit the ground, sending up clouds of dust.  
  
"Yer gonna pay for that, mate!" hissed the Aussie vampire. "Soon as I get up..."  
  
"I'll be back later," Neil said, walking off.  
  
"Ya better not be, I'll bite yer bloody neck!"  
  
A troubled Neil walked off through his town, wind blowing dead leaves around aimlessly, the moon casting a pale shadow before him. He noticed the village weapon shop was still open.  
  
"Yeah, I'll show dad I don't need that lame whip. Aw, screw dad. I'll do this for my own sake."  
  
He entered the shop. A very ugly man, or a very handsome dog in men's clothes sat upon a bench.  
  
"What can I do for ya?" the man/dog asked.  
  
"Um... are you a dog?" Neil wondered.  
  
"What makes you say that? I mean, of course not." He rubbed a stubby, paw- like hand across his extended black nose.  
  
"...Right. Anyway... I need a-"  
  
"Weapon?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right. You're good."  
  
"That's all we sell."  
  
"Yeah... nevermind. I need a weapon."  
  
"Ain't you that Belmont kid?" the 'man' asked.  
  
"Not anymore, I got disowned."  
  
"Hm. That's too bad. We have a 99.9% off deal for all Belmonts."  
  
"Seriously? Wow... but we use the whip."  
  
"Yeah... that's why we have the sale. Doesn't make a difference, but it makes us look like we endorse the town hero."  
  
"How 'bout you live up to your endorsement just once, man, and give me the discount?"  
  
"He's no son of mine and no Belmont!!" came the voice of Terence from afar.  
  
"Well, I heard that clear enough." The 'man' shrugged. A hairy, tail-like appendage wagged behind his back. Neil stared oddly.  
  
"Look. Here's my story. I've been exiled from the Belmont family, and now I need a new weapon and maybe some other cool stuff so I can be a freelance vampire hunter."  
  
"What'd ya do to get kicked out, anyway?"  
  
"I... well... I badmouthed the whip."  
  
"The WHIP?!" gasped the 'guy.' "Don't no one badmouth the whip."  
  
"Eh, it was nothing special. Just a whip. The person swinging it matters more. Without the Morning Star powerup, it sucks."  
  
"I see, I see... so you need a new weapon, and you aren't sure what."  
  
"Yeah," Neil confirmed. "Can you help me out?"  
  
"You bet. Here's what we got." The shopkeeper pulled a rope. A large red curtain behind him, which Neil hadn't noticed, became agape, and a wide selection of weaponry stood behind it.  
  
Neil's jaw dropped. "Woah, woah, woah... Kittens? Doves?!"  
  
"Some little girl used them. Seems they were pretty effective. But, no one's bought any since."  
  
"Don't you have to like... feed them and stuff?"  
  
"Not if they're sub-weapons."  
  
"Eh?"  
  
"You know, sub-weapons. They pop up out of nowhere if you've got hearts."  
  
"Oh, I gotcha." Neil then scratched his head. "But I could use them as main weapons too?"  
  
"If you don't mind looking stupid."  
  
"I really need a main weapon, and I'm not looking for anything living, or for that matter, any whips."  
  
"Well, take a look. We got swords, shields, polearms, axes, wooden weapons, flails, daggers, jumpropes, jaws of life, salad shooters, Taco Bell sauce, and stale French bread."  
  
Neil looked over the choices. "What's up with the bread?"  
  
"Oh, you need a permit to carry that around. It's dangerous."  
  
"How so?"  
  
The shopkeeper grabbed the bread, and pulled a small diamond out of his pocket. He placed the diamond on the table, and proceeded to smash it into dust with a few strikes from the rock-hard stale bread.  
  
"That's... a pretty expensive demonstration..." Neil said bewilderedly.  
  
"I just slip it on the bill of the next guy who buys something..."  
  
"Damn. Well... I stole a crapload of cash off those dark minions of evil who were summoning Dracula back to life. I got this covered."  
  
"So you want the bread?"  
  
"I think so... but I'm still not decided."  
  
"Kid, you seem bright, and loaded, and by bright, I mean highly gullible, and by loaded, I mean loaded... so lemme tell you what I'm gonna do." He reached up to a tall shelf and pulled down a large box.  
  
"Oooh... yeah, yeah, what's in the box?" Neil asked, bewildered by the fine white cloth draped over it.  
  
"A weapon. A weapon of great worth and value. This is one of the greatest swords ever made!!"  
  
He clutched the white veil tightly with his paw-hands. "This is a mighty sword the legendary Alucard found in Dracula's castle years ago, and used it to defeat the evil master of the castle... This is the now-nameless Dark Sword!!"  
  
He removed the cloth in a flashy gesture, exposing a sword of dark colors which inspired a fear into any who looked upon it. "This sword has the elemental power of darkness and shadow. It's very strong, too."  
  
"Wait a minute..." said Neil. "Why would a vampire slayer want this? Wouldn't a.... like, a Pope slayer want this?!"  
  
A skinny, deranged, bug-eyed, sloppy-haired man in a black shirt and gray pants barged through the door, running like a drunken clown with broken knees, giggling like a school girl. His shirt read "Pope-Slayer" in white letters. He snatched the sword, his hands like the wind, and he scampered away gleefully.  
  
The dog-guy whipped out a pistol and shot him. The Pope-Slayer hobbled out the door, still giggling, dropping the sword on the way out. Neil thoughtfully picked it up and brought it back, his expression clearly stating he did not wish to discuss or think about what just happened ever again.  
  
"So anyway," Neil continued. "Isn't this kind of weapon a stupid idea for someone like me to try to use against evil creatures of unholiness?"  
  
"Probably. But it's cool, and famous."  
  
"Eh. I don't think so."  
  
"Okay, okay. Kid, you ever hear of Excalibur?"  
  
"What? You have Excalibur?!" Neil's eyes lit up.  
  
"Yes, we have Excalipur."  
  
"EXCALI-BUR."  
  
"Yes, we have EXCALIPUR."  
  
"Look, stop acting like I don't notice."  
  
The shopkeeper sighed. "Yeah, fine. We have one called Excalipur. It's a ripoff, but it's almost as good. It has no magical powers, no history, and the metal's a little cheaper... but darnit, I've seen the real thing, and this one's not that much worse."  
  
"How much is it?"  
  
"10 silver coins."  
  
"Not bad... I'll take it."  
  
"What about the bread?"  
  
"Can I get that as a sub-weapon?"  
  
"I'm afraid not. It's main-weapon only."  
  
"Well... how about specials? Or maybe I can re-equip and use it."  
  
"You figure that out. It'll be 12 silver."  
  
"Right. And the diamond, which looks a lot like glass now that I look at it?"  
  
"Umm... no charge."  
  
"Okay. Thanks, you've been a big help, despite the fact that you're a talking dog wearing pants, and that you tried to rip me off several times."  
  
"No hard feelings though?"  
  
"Nah."  
  
"Hey... wait, I'm not a dog."  
  
"What's with the tail?"  
  
"I, er...."  
  
"Dog."  
  
"Get out!!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"GET OUT!!"  
  
"Okay, okay, geez. I'm getting out."  
  
The dog guy kicked Neil square in the rectal area, knocking him onto the dusty street. It was now the dead of night...  
  
"And never come back!!" the dog guy screamed.  
  
"What about paying for this stuff?" Neil asked.  
  
"Err... get back here and pay me!!"  
  
"I can't do that. You told me never to come back. Sorry!"  
  
"ARRGH!! Fine, just get lost!!"  
  
Neil chuckled and walked off down the street...  
  
What will happen next time to our favorite non-Belmont Belmont? Will his fierce arsenal of the semi-famous Excalipur and an extremely hard loaf of stale French bread prove enough? How much farther will he have to go before his father stops hearing his conversations and screaming about him not being a Belmont? And why is there a talking dog in a Castlevania fanfic?  
  
Find out next time!! (except for the talking dog thing, I'm not bringing that up again)  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Australia, Australians, Australianism, Australian accents, vampires, vampirism, Australian vampires, Australian vampirism, Australian vampire accents, or any other such people, places or concepts. I own a few things, though. Come over sometime and I'll show you my things. We'll have fun! 


	3. Everbody, shut up

*Continuing in past tense*  
  
Last time we left Neil M. Be... Neil M., he was strolling through his town, now armed with the not-so legendary Excalipur, and a freakin' hard piece of French bread. What will happen next?!!?!  
  
Neil hummed a dainty little tune as he progressed. "Doo dee doo doo..."  
  
"SHUT UP!!" screamed someone. "I'M TRYIN' TO SLEEP!!"  
  
Neil sighed and kept going. "Y'know, maybe I should try sleeping, come to think of it. But I sure don't have a house... Aw, well. Us Belmonts... er... geez. My former family and myself require practically no sleep."  
  
"Neil M.!" called a soft voice.  
  
"Who's there?"  
  
"It is I... ... Well, you don't know me. I am the wandering prophet, Sirius!"  
  
"Never heard of you," Neil replied. "So who are you, anyway?"  
  
"Um... I'm a wandering prophet, basically."  
  
"That's nice. Seeya." Neil started walking away.  
  
"Wait!! I have important matters to discuss with you!"  
  
"Hm?" Neil pivoted around and now eyed this stranger, glowing in their white robe, their face unseen.  
  
"It concerns the awakening evil..."  
  
"Dracula? Been there, done that," said Neil. "Don't you read the Paranormal section in the paper?" He held up a newspaper, featuring the headline "Drac Got Whacked", with a picture of him posing with his (former) whip. "They didn't get my good side... anyway, problem's solved, man. Seeya." Neil again left, tucking his newspaper into his jacket.  
  
"No, wait! You must hear my words! This is serious!!"  
  
"Yeah, you already told me you're Sirius. Nice to meet you."  
  
"No! The matter at hand is serious!!"  
  
"Oh, so it's all about you, eh? I'm too busy to do you any favors right now, you selfish bastard."  
  
Sirius held out his hand. A bolt of lightning zapped Neil, sending him to the ground.  
  
"Now listen to me! Neil M. Belmont, you've made a grave misjudgement. You have slain Dracula... yet the fact is, that when he revives, the evil in the air which has been gathering and swelling for so long finally manifests itself across the landscape... the evil spirits and monsters begin to spread widely... vampirism runs amok... and the Castlevania appears somewhere in our land..."  
  
Neil blinked a few times. "I... I thought the castle dissappeared when ol' Draccy kicked the bucket."  
  
"Incorrect."  
  
"Wha?"  
  
"Incorrect."  
  
"Not that."  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"What DOES happen, o great Sirius?"  
  
"Nothing happens when Dracula dies."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Nothing happens when Dracul-"  
  
"Dammit, would you stop that?"  
  
"Stop what?"  
  
"Whenever I say what, you always repeat what you said!"  
  
"I thought that's what you expected. I am rather softspoken."  
  
"No!! I mean, 'what the heck did you just mean by what you said, because it didn't make sense to me.' "  
  
"Well, I'll explain it better. When Dracula ceases to breathe, pump blood, think or act, this classifies him as dead. When Dracula is dead as opposed to being alive, nothing changes. There is no significant effect on the state of reality before or after this transition."  
  
"...I hate you."  
  
"What?"  
  
"My feelings towards you are not those of any kind of endearment or affection, moreover I dislike your presence and tendencies and bear ill wishes of your future."  
  
"..."  
  
"Alright... I'll stop saying 'what'... Sirius? What makes Castlevania go away, if it isn't Dracula's death?"  
  
Sirius cleared his throat. "The death or removal of the lord of the castle."  
  
"Isn't that Dracula?"  
  
"Dracula wasn't the lord of the castle, because he never set foot in it."  
  
Neil twitched in frustration. "Then who the heck is?!"  
  
"Not sure."  
  
"But you're saying there is one?"  
  
"There's always a lord of the castle... Castlevania has a strange, surreal effect on the world around it. It can foresee what will become of it in the near future, and can begin a manipulative process that will place a new lord by the time one is needed."  
  
"So...."  
  
"So basically, everything is the same as ever except Dracula isn't your target."  
  
"Geez... I thought it was a good idea."  
  
"You're an idiot."  
  
"I hate you."  
  
"Some Belmont you are..."  
  
Terence Belmont's voice came roaring from the distance. "Get it through yer 'ead, mate!!!! The bloody dope is no Belmont!!!!! I dishoned 'im and left 'im fer the dingos!!!!"  
  
"DAD!!!!" Neil hollared back. "You are NOT Australian!!!!"  
  
"And YOU'RE not a Belmont!!!!"  
  
"And you're BOTH gonna be sucking your sheep gristle through a hole in your throat when I'm done with you for waking me up!!!" screamed the angry man from earlier on. "Now SHUT UP!!"  
  
"And I'm NOT A DOG!!!" added the shopkeeper.  
  
"And if ya come back 'ere, I'll bite yer bloody neck!!!!" yelled the Australian vampire, still on his back like a turtle.  
  
"Hey!!" called the sleeping man. "That'd be good of you, after I'm done beating their faces into dough!!!"  
  
Neil's orange-y eyes flickered. "Would all of you JUST SHUT UP AND STOP TALKING TO EACH OTHER FROM ACROSS THE TOWN?!?! I'LL KICK ALL YOUR ASSES, I'M TOTALLY SERIOUS!!!"  
  
"I'm Sirius. You're Neil."  
  
"BUTT OUT, YOU!!!"  
  
"No need to yell!! I'm right here."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Anyway, Neil... your destiny lies before you. I cannot help you any more than this right now..." Sirius handed Neil a heart container.  
  
"Aww... Sirius... you shouldn't have!! Dad would never let me have this! Said I had to earn one."  
  
"Look, don't get mushy on me. Mysterious, robed figures don't mesh well with mushiness."  
  
"Hehe... mesh with mush."  
  
"...Neil. Honestly. What the hell is wrong with you?"  
  
"Mush..."  
  
"Anyway. You can now use sub-weapons. Hone your skills, Neil! Learn the secret Belmont arts, or maybe make up your own or something. Whatever you do, go meander through nature and ancient structures until you locate Castlevania, for it only appears in the mist of night to the brave and adventurous."  
  
"Tell me where it is."  
  
"Er... no."  
  
"C'mon, don't you know?"  
  
"Not... really. I'm pretty brave, but I'm honestly not adventurous."  
  
"Humm... sucks to be you, Sirius."  
  
"Yeah, well... get going."  
  
So... Neil began walking off on a dirt path, in the middle of the night. He seeks adventure, fame, wealth, and honor. But mostly just to make his dad look stupid, and to make himself look smart.  
  
Are you excited yet? No? Sorry.  
  
Stay tuned for more!! 


	4. Ever wish a hand would grab you? I don't

So there's this dude, right? This scraggly-haired young man, and he's lying there... I think he's drooling on himself a little. He keeps pulling his sheets over him cause he doesn't want to get up, but he doesn't want to sleep all day.  
  
Suddenly the door busts open.  
  
"What the hell is this all about, jackass?"  
  
The guy in bed started to get up. "Wha...? I don't wanna get up..."  
  
The in-barger snatched the guy by the back of his shirt and yanked him upwards. "No. No. You're not going back to sleep. It's two o'clock! Get up!!"  
  
"Who ARE you?!" The guy stared at his awaker in horror.  
  
"I am YOUR CREATION!!" he roared. "I am Neil Belmont!!"  
  
"The hell if you're a Belmont!" Terence yelled from a VERY faraway distance of both time and space.  
  
"I am Neil! Neil M.! And you didn't finish my story!! So you know what you're gonna do, jerkweed? You're gonna get your mangy ass outta this bad, eh, maybe WASH yourself off -- got a hose or anything? -- and you're gonna sit at your goddamn computer and do another chapter or I'm gonna get medieval on your ass!!!"  
  
"Uhhnn..." the author groaned, dragging himself out of bed. Neil shoved him along and led him to the computer.  
  
"Now I don't know how these things work, being from hundreds of years ago and all, but you better sit down and make it do all that razzmatazz that it does when you do that make it does that do it stuff that it... er... JUST WRITE!!"  
  
"I'm tired..." the author mumbled, opening up WordPad.  
  
"What the fuggin hell is that all about anyway? You slept for like 12 hours! I asked your parents about it before I killed them and broke in!!"  
  
The author jerked back fearfully, throwing up his arms. "You killed my parents?!"  
  
Neil's face straightened. "No. ...No. I, uh, I told them about some pressing matters they needed to attend to, involving my sword and their bare, fleshy backs and a long-term trip to a landfill, loooong-term, if you know what I mean, and I told them about the cutting I had to do, and the stabbing, and the slow, sloooow grinding and rustling of bones and -- What are you staring at?!"  
  
"Who's your friend?" the author's mother asked, walking up.  
  
"Mom? You're alive?"  
  
"Of course I am. Do you guys need something to drink?"  
  
"Sure... some Pepsi?"  
  
"Okay then, be right back."  
  
"Woah," Neil said to himself. "Who DID I kill?"  
  
"...You freak me out."  
  
"YOU created me. It's your fault."  
  
"Here you are, two Pepsis."  
  
"Thank you, Mrs. *******... what, what're you afraid of? Don't want people hearing your name?"  
  
"Well... yeah, kind of."  
  
"What's wrong with the name ******** ********? Better than muthafuggin' Neil M. Belmont!!!"  
  
"Well, the kids at school used to call me ****."  
  
"****?! HA!! That's a riot!! Haha, how ya doin, ****?"  
  
"I'm kinda tired, actual-"  
  
"Man, don't you know? 'How ya doin' is a formality. In other words, no one actually gives a damn."  
  
"...Oh. That would explain the kids at school looking at me funny when I told them about my miserable life."  
  
"HA! Life sucks fer you, eh ****?" Neil then takes a swig of Pepsi. "Geez, what's in this stuff, ****?"  
  
"Please stop calling me that!!" **** yells. Oops. Make that ******** yells. Better yet, er, *ahem*, "Better yet, Neil, how about you just call me author?"  
  
"Ok, auth. I can do that."  
  
"Alright. How's the Pepsi?"  
  
"It's strong!!! Sweet!! Soooo sweet.... hmm. I like this stuff, except I can feel my teeth dying as we speak."  
  
"Wait'll you get your first caffeine rush."  
  
"Caffeine? Omigod, what's caffeine? Don't tell me it's some sort of mystical magical substance that draws out your soul and enslaves you to the great overlord monsters who force you to dance and sing with raccoons in the glistening moonlight until you can feel the beat, beat, beat of your heart! OH GOD THE BEAT BEAT BEAT!!! And then you look around and everyone else seems fine so you stop and say, 'ok, I guess I should be fine too!' Then you're fine for awhile but then you hear this noise, it's so horrible, it's ringing, and pulsing, and beating and BEAT BEAT BEAT and then you just run around screaming then you fall over and you can't bear it and you roll around in the dirt, moaning and weeping until finally, finally, it's over and you're dead and then they just go and use their magic slave juice on someone else and turn them into a zombie puppet?!"  
  
"...Welcome to the 20th century."  
  
"Now I see why you're so lazy. I'm gonna be pooped when this wears off." He busily taps his fingers on the can. Loudly. The author bites his lip in annoyance.  
  
"Ok, Auth, now get to work on the fic."  
  
"Alright." the Author starts typing.  
  
"Hmmmmmmm.... I think I'm going back now," Neil says, walking off. "So, like, I better not stand there in a daze for 7 months this time, Auth. You, y'know, better write stuff that I do, so I, like, do it. I'm not getting any younger."  
  
"I know, I know. ...Thanks, Neil. Sometimes I need a good boot in the ass."  
  
Neil smiled. "Hey, it's not like you have anything better to do. Your friends never do anything, you work TWO DAYS a week, you're GRADUATED now, and it's not like you got anything better do write, either -- I mean, that Sailor Moon fic? What's up with that?"  
  
Auth's eyebrow twitched. "Hey now! I've had that fic in mind for years, way back to my RPing days. And I'm GONNA finish it."  
  
Neil's eye glittered innocently. "Even if no one reads it?"  
  
Auth chucks a shoe at Neil. Neil gets hit and makes that old Simon Belmont grunting "Auh!" noise. "EVEN IF NO ONE READS IT," he repeated spitefully.  
  
"Well, ok then. You darn well better get to work, man. I guess I'll just... go back to my hometown and wait for the next chapter."  
  
Auth sighs. "Kay. Seeya... (God, what have I created...)."  
  
Neil stops by the front door and plays with a light switch. "Dude, I'm digging this whole electricity thing. They didn't have it in my time, did they?"  
  
"NO, Neil, they didn't. Not that you would have noticed."  
  
Neil continues to stand there playing with it. For several minutes. As Auth writes. His teeth grind as he hears the silver-haired idiot giggling.  
  
"OKAY!!! LEAVE!!!" He grabs Neil and shoves him out the door.  
  
Suddenly, Neil was back in the old Castlevania time/space thingy.  
  
"Okay, now it's time to get back to my quest! (see chapters 1,2,3 to see what I'm doing. or don't, cause I don't care anyway.)"  
  
Neil walked out of the town down a dull path. It was early morning... the sun was not yet over the trees, yet brightness was settling in already. A hand reached up suddenly from the ground and clutched Neil's leg. He tried to walk, but couldn't. Upon closer inspection, he saw a hand reaching up from the ground, clutched onto his leg.  
  
"Huh..." he said, standing there. Suddenly a ghastly zombie rose up from the ground and floated towards him.  
  
"Crap!" Neil said, quickly drawing his trusted, generic blade, the Excalipur. He readied it to swing, dramatically, but the zombie took a good five seconds in drifting to him.  
  
"Come on, if they're flying, they should be faster than this," Neil complained towards the sky.  
  
Suddenly, the zombie was going ridiculously fast and smacked right into him. "AUHH!!" yelled Neil. "Taste Second-rate Steel!" he barked, swinging the blade into the zombie ghost thing and cutting it in two. Another one came flying in at him, as fast as a horse in full speed.  
  
"Holy CRAP!!" Neil said, thrusting the sword hopefully forward and closing his eyes, awaiting a terrible impact. Fortunately, the zombie moronically flew into the sword and died. Well... was destroyed. It was already dead.  
  
Neil looked desperately up at the clouds. "Ok, whatever higher power that heard me and mysteriously made the zombies insanely fast just to spite me... I see my error. And I'm..." he kicked the dirt. "I'm sorry." He nodded admittingly. "Okay, now please change it back."  
  
Suddenly!!! The zombies were going really slow, and he had no immediate concern of them crashing into him. ...so it wasn't so sudden. Well, the change was sudden, but there was nothing else sudden about the zombies. Author made a brainstorm. Suddenly Zombies. An idea for a sitcom. Author decides to stop making comments in the story, realizing that it was a one- time gag at best and he'd probably better not ever include himself in the story again.  
  
...Author burns Suddenly Zombies idea. Author smacks self.  
  
"O...key...doo... key..." Neil says, slowly putting his sword away. "I reckon I'll just start walking away... right... about... huh?! My foot is mysteriously stuck in place!! And my self-narration begins as I trip and fall to the ground! THUD is the noise I just made!! And now Ouch, OUCH it hurts!! But what could be holding my foot in place? It's as if it's being grabbed... or even clutched!! But WHAT sort of sinister impliment, utility, limb, extremity, or compliation of functional, prehensile digits could POSSIBLY grip my leg in place like this?!"  
  
He gazed back at his foot. There was the hand. Oh yeah, he remembered that. With the grabbing, and the holding in place, and the not being able to escape from the zombie that was about to hit him insanely fast until he requested the above whatever to slow it down again and it strangely complied. Now he remembered. He felt melancholic, making these recollections about his past. He wished there was some sort of chronicle of the events he had been through. Then he noticed a Chapter button, and several other chapters. As he scrolled the mouse through the short-but- stout list, he was filled with warm and pleasant memories. A tear came to his eye.  
  
"Hmm..." said Neil. "Omigosh... the Zombies that were coming towards me slowly yet dangerously to my limited health!!!" He looked up to see that the zombie had cleared a full TWO FEET of distance during what seemed like only a second of long and drawn out pointless attempts at the oh-so-brain- hurting thought process he seemed naturally inclined to force himself into despite COMPLETE inadequacy. "OH MY GOD, TWO FEET IN THAT SHORT..." he glanced at his watch. "only FIFTEEN seconds?! WTH?!"  
  
With little time to act, Neil realized his game plan. He had to take out the hand at his foot, so he could stand up and take out the zombies approaching. Before they touched him. Causing damage. Icky awful DAMAGE. He almost said "Auh" just at the thought. But no. He couldn't stop and waste time thinking about things like that. Nor could he stop and think about the fact that he shouldn't stop and think about anything right now. But he was too busy to carry that thought further, no, there was no time. He'd think about it later. If there WAS a later. But there was no time for pessimistic predictions like that. Nor was there time to remind himself that there was no time for pessimistic predictions. Nor was there time for anything!! There was NO time!! Time was like, almost up!! He totally had to just stop thinking about things!! Which was usually so easy!!  
  
"Quck, man, quick!! For God's sake, quick!! What hurts hand?!"  
  
"Hm... hand. Hand is fleshy. Flesh is generally carved by... hmm... what did I carve that old couple in the landfill up with? Ooh, I know, SHARP stuff! Heheh, that was kick-ass. Too bad it wasn't his parents. Then he'd have no excuse. I mean, he'd be at home, like, 'damn, my parents are dead. guess I better write stupid fanfiction like a nerd!' Ha ha. Stupid nerd. Stupid ****. Kick HIS ass anyday."  
  
Neil noticed something... the zombies were closing in!! Still!! But closer than the last time he noticed them closing in, which, given his general understanding of the functions of time, space, and physics, made perfect sense. He had to do something. But what? He couldn't move!  
  
"Oh! That's right!! There's some five-fingered bodily instrument holding me down!! What was it that hurt those... SHARP STUFF!! That's it!! My sword is sharp!!" He pulled out his sword. "I bet if I hit that thing with the sword, it can make it die and stop grabbing me and whatnot!!"  
  
He swung the Excalipur at the hand. It hit. "Sometimes flesh doesn't want to be carved up like grandma's pumpkins... sometimes flesh is hard like grandma's calves!! Sometimes you gotta cut MORE!!" He swung the sword again. It hit. He kept swinging. The hand wasn't dying.  
  
"This sword is WEAK!!!" he complained. "I don't get it. It killed the zombies in one hit!!"  
  
"Everything kills us in one hit," one of the zombies said.  
  
"You can talk?" Neil asked.  
  
"No," the zombie replied.  
  
"Seriously?"  
  
"No, we can't."  
  
"Then what the-"  
  
The zombie screamed. "Drink more caffeine!!"  
  
"NOOO!!! Now i have another reason to escape the hand and kill the zombie before it gets me hooked on the sweet sweet taste of Pepsi."  
  
"Actually, Pepsi's more of an American market thing."  
  
"Ameri-who?"  
  
"We're more of a Coke crowd."  
  
"Oh, that's cool."  
  
"...You don't know what Coke is."  
  
"Sure, my grandpa likes that stuff."  
  
"COCA COLA!!!"  
  
"...Oh. Never heard of it."  
  
"Then DIE!!! When we TOUCH you!!!"  
  
"Great..." Neil groaned. Suddenly he lit up. "I've got it! The sword! And the meaty hand of the thing from the underground!!" He took his sword and stabbed the hand repeatedly. It didn't stop grabbing him.  
  
"Oh no!! For some reason it's not working!!!"  
  
He considered his options.  
  
1) hit hand with swor--- wait. no.  
  
1) hit sword with hand!! might have to give that a try.  
  
2) hit zombie with sword. a little far-fetched....  
  
3) hit zombie with hand. no, hand won't move.  
  
4) hit hand with zombie. now we're talkin!!!  
  
...  
  
Neil waited for the Zombie to approach. The afternoon sun lit up the sky as he leafed through the last few pages of a popular culture magazine, which he stole from the future.  
  
"Oh... my... GOD she's a slut!" he said, after reading about Christina Aguilera. "I mean, preteen girls are idolizing her, and she's like... DAMN. ...Now Britney Spears is different. I know she may be getting a 'bad rep' from the older crowd, but she's just... redefining herself. She was caught, bound by her pre-established image as a Mouseketeer and a good little girl, and so now that she's trying to break away and be her own person, she may be going a little 'over the edge', overdoing it a bit, to make her point all the more clear. Damn she looks fine though."  
  
"Hey, um, Neil, was it?" the Zombie said, now casting a shadow over him.  
  
"Yeah, what?"  
  
"I'd just like to say that... during this time where I've been gradually growing closer to you like this... I'm just sorry I didn't talk to you more than I did." He let out a heave of breath as he tried to continue, tried to take his feelings and word them. "I'm just sorry that we didn't grow closer PERSONALLY while we did so PHYSICALLY. You know?"  
  
"Yeah, I hear ya."  
  
"Now, um, you do realize I'm about to touch you."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Now, and--oh, is that Entertainment Weekly?"  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
"Does it talk about the Hulk? I was thinking about seeing that."  
  
"Nope, not this ish."  
  
"Darn. Well, where was I? Yeah, and when I touch you, it's gonna hurt."  
  
"Yes, I'm aware," Neil replied.  
  
"So, um... here goes."  
  
Neil suddenly grabbed the slow-moving zombie's hand, dragged it towards the hand grabbing his leg, and smacked it into that evil purple mutanty hand that wouldn't let go. The hand, in an alteration of character, let go, then died.  
  
"Sweet," Neil said.  
  
"Sorry!!" the zombie quickly yelped, bumping into Neil.  
  
"AUH!!!" Neil cried.  
  
.........?!!!  
  
And so ended another chapter of the Adventures of Neil M. Belmont. I hope this was a good one, for my ...several fans who seemed to like the old stuff. I do hope you guys notice this. Don't worry, I'm in a writing mind these days, so I might actually keep working on this!!! But remember, like Public Access, viewer support always helps. I'm not talking about Reviews, either. I'm talking donations, fools.  
  
Love, Auth 


	5. Jammin' Tunes

to Kitala: glad you like it! Sirius is just something that popped into my head. I might have heard it somewhere. I never did read much of Harry Potter actually, so I don't know who Sirius is in that.  
  
Man, with all this talking I'm doing, I'm really gonna turn into a main character. Oh well.  
  
!!Chapter Five: More Stuff Happens Involving Neil M. Belmont!! mais en ce moment il y a des hommes de fleuve!!! zut alors!! allons-y! why is this in French?!!  
  
Neil sighed, sitting down and wiping his brow. It was a hot day, and he was tired. Fortunately, the sun was nearing the end of its travels, and a cool evening breeze was starting to blow.  
  
"You know what else blows?" Neil said. "This half-assed imagery. Bust out the big guns, auth, or else just shut up and get along with it." Neil suddenly felt a terrible, searing pain in his stomach and fell to the ground in agony.  
  
"I'm sorry!! I'm sorry!! Talk about the pretty flowers or whatever, I don't care! Just stop the whole deus ex stomach-ache thing!!"  
  
Neil suddenly got up and felt better. He looked around, indulging the scenery deeply. He was stepping out of a forest, and now before him stood a river he would have to cross. Fortunately, there were platforms he could jump onto. They looked like old Roman pillars and various mysteriously floating white platforms.  
  
"Not even gonna ask how this works," he commented, hopping onto the first platform. To his dismay it began to rumble and collapse under him.  
  
"Eep!" he squealed and jumped onto the next platform. This one wasn't giving way, which made NO sense, but was a relief.  
  
SPLOOSH!! Out from the water jumped a merman. It spiraled through the air and landed on the platform with Neil.  
  
Neil's jaw dropped. "Hey, idiot! Don't jump on these things, they'll fall!"  
  
It gradually dawned on Neil that this wouldn't concern a fish-man. He drew his Excalipur and struck the merman valiantly. Unharmed, the merman spat a fireball at him. Neil barely managed to jump out of the way. As he landed, he put away his worthless sword and drew the dreaded French bread. "Eat this!" he exclaimed, swinging the bread. The merman jumped back into the water just in time.  
  
"What, you gonna fight or not?!" Neil shouted. He was tempted to dive in, but he knew that all Belmonts were completely incapable of swimming, or even splashing desperately and washing up on the surface. They just... DIED. He sighed and carefully kept jumping from platform to platform.  
  
Out of nowhere, another merman hopped up, and the two almost collided midair. "WhoawhoaWHOA WATCH IT, IDIOT!" he screamed, shoving the merman away. "You got a death wish? Why can't you just watch where you're going?"  
  
"You forget that enemies hurt you upon contact," a voice said. "Yet you have to strike them for the same effect."  
  
"Yeah, great," Neil answered. "It's a million to one and I'M the one with the disadvantage in each individual fight. Real fair."  
  
"Don't blame me," said the voice. "It's not my fault."  
  
"Who are you anyway?" Neil asked, still staring down a merman.  
  
"It's me, Sirius. I'm talking to you... through... TELEPATHY!!!!"  
  
"WHOA."  
  
...  
  
"Yeah, that's what I'm doing."  
  
"THAT'S COOL."  
  
Neil just stood there, wide-eyed.  
  
"...Neil? What is wrong with you? Get back to your fight!"  
  
"...Who's talking to me?"  
  
"We just went over this, Neil. It's Sirius."  
  
"But you're not here."  
  
"It's Telepathy."  
  
"OH... MY.... GOD!!! You have TELEPATHY?!! That is so awesome!"  
  
"...You are an IDIOT, Neil! Kill the merman!!"  
  
"Who are you talking to?" the merman suddenly asked.  
  
"Oh, it's my friend Sirius."  
  
The merman looked back and forth curiously. "Is that... telepathy?"  
  
Neil nodded proudly. "Yep."  
  
"Holy crap, man! That's awesome!! Hold on, I'll be right back. I want to tell my buddies about this!" His eyes bulged with a sudden emphasis of urgency. "Don't go away!!"  
  
He hopped into the water. Neil stood around for about a minute.  
  
"Neil? You just gonna stand there and wait?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so."  
  
"Why? You've got a quest."  
  
"Yeah? Well YOU've got telepathy."  
  
"......Your point?"  
  
"Look, just hold on a minute, he said he'd be back. Just chill out. Geez."  
  
"...Okay."  
  
Out of the river water hopped several mermen.  
  
"Hey man! It's me!" the leading merman greeted.  
  
"Sup," said another merman gruffly.  
  
"Yo," Neil said waving.  
  
"Is he cool?" asked a merman.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, he's down," the lead merman said. "I'm MerMike, sorry for not introducing myself earlier. You're Neil, right?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm Neil."  
  
"Ok, so check this out. This is MerMelvin, and that's MerMatt. MerMark and MerMelinda said they were gonna come up soon too."  
  
"Cool man, cool."  
  
"So what's up with this telepathy shiz?" asked MerMatt.  
  
MerMike turned to MerMatt excitedly. "It's dope, man! You gotta see this."  
  
MerMelvin spoke up as well. "Show us!!"  
  
"Okay, check this out," Neil said. "Sirius? You there man?"  
  
"*Sigh* Yes, I'm here, Neil."  
  
"Woaaah..." all the mermen said in unison.  
  
"That's sick man," MerMelvin said.  
  
"True," Neil agreed.  
  
"Do more!" MerMike requested.  
  
"Yo my man Sirius, what else you got!" Neil asked.  
  
"This isn't a show," Sirius groaned.  
  
"This is whack," MerMelvin said bluntly. "You get any other stations man?"  
  
"Yeah, hold up." Neil adjusted an imaginary dial. "Kay, let's get some rap goin!"  
  
"Rap?!" Sirius replied. "Ignoring the logical discrepancy of me even understanding what rap IS, I sure as hell am not cultured or versed enough to produce sufficient verses for-"  
  
"MAN this is whack," MerMelvin groaned, hopping back into the water.  
  
Neil slapped his forehead. "Good job you ass! You chased MerMelvin outta this hizzy! He was gonna score me up some chicks tonight!!"  
  
"Why are you doing this to me?" Sirius sighed.  
  
Neil looked to the other two mermen. He still had their attention. Another merman came climbing out of the river.  
  
"Sup MerMindy!!!" MerMatt said in a deep voice.  
  
"Sup," MerMindy said in a cool, laid-back tone. Neil winked at her. She looked away.  
  
"Damn she be fine," Neil said.  
  
"My GOD you're pathetic," Sirius muttered.  
  
Neil growled. "Hey, shut up! You're gonna do some rap and you're gonna do it now!!"  
  
"Yea, yea, let's hear somma that," MerMike insisted.  
  
"Aight, hold up, give a brotha a second to get ready," Neil said, staring off into space impatiently, waiting for Sirius to start, but keeping his cool; always keeping cool.  
  
"Ok check this," Sirius said in a totally uncharacteristic tone. MerMatt started tapping his webbed, moist foot.  
  
"My name is Sirius, that is no lie  
  
I like to tell fortunes and philosophize  
  
Yeah, uh-huh,  
  
I am a wand'ring messenger  
  
I travel all the time  
  
But jus' cuz that's my job don't mean  
  
that I can't keep a rhyme.  
  
I like to read poetry, and literature and books  
  
I... er... ...what rhymes with books... HOOKS!  
  
when I'm holding something down I usually use hooks!"  
  
MerMindy stared disappointedly at MerMike, who shrugged. Neil frowned at this sight.  
  
"Sirius!!" he whispered. "You're DYIN' all up in here!"  
  
"No kidding," Sirius glumly answered. "I told you I'm not a rapper."  
  
"Well do SOMETHIN' good, my posse's gonna ditch me 'cause you're so square!!"  
  
Sirius cleared his throat. "Okay, can you say Hey?"  
  
"Hey."  
  
"Say Ho!"  
  
"Ho...."  
  
"Hey?"  
  
"...He..."  
  
"..Ho?!"  
  
"...."  
  
"Okay check it. Y'all keep it real, I'm out!!" Sirius said, panicking but trying to sound cool.  
  
"WOOOOOOO!!!" Neil cheered, clapping. "Let's hear it for See-Ree-Usss!! Make some noise!!"  
  
The mermen all stared at Neil in shock.  
  
"You are a JOKE," MerMindy said, getting all up in his face, "and I do NOT appreciate you getting me to come here and waste my time! Do you understand me?!"  
  
"Um, yeah, I guess."  
  
She hopped into the water.  
  
"I'm gone," MerMatt said, quickly hopping in the big drink as well.  
  
"Sorry man," MerMike said.  
  
"Naw it's cool, it's cool," Neil assured him. "So you wanna hang out sometime? Like--"  
  
"No. Sorry, I uh, I'm busy. Bye..."  
  
Splash. MerMike was gone too.  
  
"NOOO!!!" Neil screamed. "Fuggin' NOOOOOOOO!!!!" He fell to his knees and sobbed against the cold marble platform. "I was on top of it all... king of the world... I was a playa, a homie and a representer. And now it's all taken from me! I just can't believe this.... SIRIUS!!! This is your fault!! Why didn't you tell me... why didn't you... tell me you... were so... whack..."  
  
"I... I'm sorry, Neil. I never was 'down' with the G's, if you dig me."  
  
"No. I was wrong," Neil said, starting to rise again. "I was overly presumptious. I just assumed I could build this empire of coolness based on YOUR powers. I didn't even stop to think about how I was USING you. I'm sorry, Sirius. I only hope you can forgive me."  
  
"Neil... I'm sorry your dreams have been shattered. I just want you to know that... that I was like you once. Young and hopeful, wanting to be praised and accepted by all the popular cats. I did some things I regretted. You just gotta get up and move on, and know that somewhere, someone will respect you for who you really are."  
  
Neil sniffed. "Sirius...?"  
  
"Yes Neil?"  
  
"I... respect you for who you are, Sirius..."  
  
"Thanks, Neil. I respect you too."  
  
Neil gasped. "R-really?"  
  
"No, I'm lying. I forgot to say, people lie a lot. That's something else you should always remember."  
  
"Okay. I'll remember that. Thank you, Sirius."  
  
"You're welcome, Neil."  
  
It was at that time, sitting on that marble platform strangely floating above the monster-infested river, that Neil cried, not the tears of a boy, or an adolescent, but those of a man; a stupid, pathetic sort of a man.  
  
Neil started to stand. He took a deep breath and felt strong, renewed. Life would go on. Everything would be okay. It was funny, how fast dreams could be made. How fast dreams could be broken.  
  
Broken......  
  
Crack. Crack-crack.  
  
"Could that be the... platform I'm standing on?!!"  
  
*SPLOOSH*  
  
"AAAAUUUUUHHHH!!!"  
  
Did Neil DIE? Naw. I think he's okay. Let's just say at this rate it'll take him awhile to cross the river. A LOOONG while. 


	6. Whoa

After a hard day of working his way through a forest, Neil M. Belmont found himself to be mighty tired. So mighty tired, he could go for an X-Treme Sports Drink! Unfortunately those don't exist, and therefore he would have to endure with a reduced electrolyte supply. Will he survive? Find out in the epic, the incredible:  
  
Chapter Six: Chapter Seven Part 1  
  
A blue-furred werewolf marched towards Neil swiftly, but before it could reach him, it jumped into the air. Neil defended and prepared for the worst, but the wolf just landed again and kept walking back and forth.  
  
"Uh... nice day for a jump, eh chester?"  
  
"Don't talk to me. I'm jumping."  
  
"Kay."  
  
With the skill and precision of a true hero, Neil drew his stale piece of French bread and struck down the wolf in one move.  
  
"That'll learn ya to jump."  
  
Continuing onwards, he felled various other foes with little difficulty. "Gee, they should call this the Forest of Easy! But I guess that would mean YOUR MOM lived here!! Ha, insulted the reader."  
  
But the daytime was quickly waning, and the sky was starting to shift between several darker colors of pink and purple. Then, about four seconds later, it was night.  
  
"WHAT A TERRIBLE NIGHT FOR A CURSE."  
  
Neil looked around, but couldn't see anyone. "Who said that??"  
  
"DON'T ASK QUESTIONS."  
  
"Crap."  
  
In the haze of night, Neil wandered forward, only to be attacked by a werewolf.  
  
"Another one? This will be easy."  
  
The werewolf jumped at Neil, bumped into him, and sent Neil reeling backwards in some degree of pain. "AuH!!! That hurt! I thought you guys just jumped."  
  
"Now I'm jumping AND I'm pissed. At you. For breathing."  
  
"Oh. Hell." Neil reached for his bread, but before he knew it, the wolf was moving in on him, swatting the bread away. "Ouch!" it hissed, rubbing its wrist. "That, that's pretty hard."  
  
"Yeah, it's stale."  
  
"Were you gonna eat it or something? I mean, sorry to get it dirty if you were."  
  
"No. No I wasn't. That's okay. Did you want some?"  
  
"Of the stale bread? Or of your flesh?"  
  
"Um, I was kinda talking about the bread."  
  
"Oh. My bad. I was thinking about your flesh. I eat that kind of thing."  
  
"Oh, okay. That makes sense."  
  
"It's okay?"  
  
"No, it's not!"  
  
"You said 'okay', right?"  
  
"I meant okay like, okay I know what you mean, not okay you can do what you want."  
  
"I see... so it's not okay, if I eat your flesh?"  
  
"No, I'd really rather you didn't, it's most useful for housing my organs and all in all, summing up my being as a living physical entity."  
  
"Yeah, I know. I'm alive too."  
  
"Then why? Why must it come to this? Why would you want to eat me?"  
  
"It's part of nature... I eat to survive."  
  
"But you're NOT part of nature. You're a werewolf. You are the fruit of dark and forbidden magicks."  
  
"But, those are the creations of man!"  
  
"Exactly. Not natural."  
  
"I'm afraid I disagree on that one. Man is part of nature, therefore anything he can create is natural in its own sense."  
  
"No, it's synthetic. Man-made."  
  
"But man is another part of the planet! Honey is natural, isn't it? Bees make it. Cows make milk. Humans make technology and tools, creations and expressions, designs and methods."  
  
"But it's not the same!!"  
  
"MUST you humans elevate your self-worth by placing yourself above animals, in a different part of natural order? Can't all beings that produce and create just be following their own instinctive designs? Why are humans special?"  
  
"Because we got swords. Guns, swords, fire. Medicine. Uh... politics. Money. We wear freakin' PANTS for crying out loud."  
  
"You know, now that I think of it, the lycanthropic curse of the werewolf surely must be too primitive or ancient and archaic to be the work of man, but rather ancient spirits, or the magic of nature itself. So I'm not really the fruit of man, I don't think."  
  
"Yeah, that's true. I wasn't thinking about that."  
  
"Oh wait. Oh man, I'm so dumb."  
  
"Huh, what?"  
  
"No, you'll laugh."  
  
"No I won't. Tell me."  
  
"No... okay. I just remembered I'm not a werewolf anyway. I'm a wolf man. I wasn't bit or anything, I'm just a monster of sorts, like a merman."  
  
"Oh, you are?"  
  
"Yeah, so the werewolf thing is out the window entirely."  
  
"Well I guess in light of that, you could probably eat me with no real justification on my part for condemning it as improper between humans."  
  
"Ooh... hmm... 'cause, I am fairly hungry. And I tend to eat flesh and not anything else."  
  
"But, uh, just because I have lesser grounds for my attempts to convince you to stop, that doesn't mean I can't or won't still object and resist physically."  
  
"Oh. Oh, yeah, I suppose."  
  
"So you gonna jump at me, then?"  
  
"Jump? Yeah, I can do that."  
  
"I mean, I'm not saying I'm partial to it or anything, it's just-"  
  
"You aren't? You're sure?"  
  
"I mean, it seems like YOU like it, so I figured-"  
  
"Figured I wouldn't mind?"  
  
"No, I just figured it's what you'd want to do."  
  
"Well, I can if you want."  
  
"I told you, I'm impartial! You can do what you want."  
  
"Well I don't think I want to jump anymore then."  
  
"Yes you do, I can tell by looking at you."  
  
"But, but, you were saying you wanted it, then you didn't want it, and you're just trying to make me get upset over all this stuff and-"  
  
"No. No. Listen. You're the only one making you upset. Not me. Don't you blame your personal problems on me."  
  
"What?! I don't have problems... You know what? I think I'm going to jump."  
  
"You do that."  
  
"Yeah, I will! And YOU can't make me feel bad about it anymore."  
  
"I'm not even going to comment on that."  
  
"Well I'm gonna jump."  
  
"Alright. Go ahead."  
  
"...Okay."  
  
The wolfman jumped upwards, powered by the night's curse, and came down to strike Neil with the full force of the moonlight... but Neil wasn't there anymore.  
  
"Hey! Vampire hunter! Where'd you go?!" The wolfman turned around to see... Neil! "HUH?!"  
  
"Oh... I, uh, walked under you when you jumped."  
  
"You WHAT?!"  
  
"Yeah, you left it open like that, so I went ahead and took it."  
  
"You..."  
  
Neil nodded and turned away, walking off down the path.  
  
"You know what? You're, you're an ass." The wolfman stood tall on his padded toes and tilted his neck a bit. "Yeah that's right! I said it! Ass! Get back here! I mean, uh, get outta here! Keep walkin'! Heh, yeah, I'm all that."  
  
And so, Neil continues his quest... but night has fallen, and apparently there's some curse or something that makes monsters stronger and makes strange voices announce that it's a bad night for a curse. Will Neil survive? I bet he will. Who cares? 


	7. the truth about Nazi Apes

When we last saw Neil Belmont, he was on the run from Nazi Gorillas! Yes, Nazi Gorillas. I'm certain of it. I have no need to backtrack to my chapter six file which is sitting right in front of me because I'm sure that the Gorillas were the focus of it.

And so, it begins:

Chapter Seven: Nazi Gorillas Pt 2

Neil took a quick drag of his cigar before clambering over the chain link fence and landing with a thud on the asphault below. Never in his life had he seen such a thing, but it was true - that Air Force Base was overrun - with Nazi Gorillas!

Rubbing his head, Neil sighed and plopped down on the ground. "I wasn't aware that gorillas were capable of such overzealous national pride, nor that one could indoctrinate them with cultural intolerance."

A few explosions went off in the base, rocking the earth and the air and sending the smell of fire everywhere. Air raid sirens began to go off. Neil grudgingly rose to his feet and spat the half-smoked cigar onto the nearby grass. "They'll be coming for me soon. I guess I'd better get moving."

He made his way to a patch of bushes and branches, which he swept away, revealing his jeep. Just as he got in, the fence gate came crashing open and a bunch of Nazi Gorillas on motorcycles came pouring out after him. "Oog heil!" they yelled through streams of spit as they drove straight for Neil, toting Lugers, which their big, thick fingers would hardly fit around.

"It begins!" yelped Neil as he turned the key, starting the jeep and pulling quickly away from the site.

He thought back to the start of all this. He had killed Hitler, but now the Apes wanted to revive Hitler again, sending Europe into an age of darkness and vampirism.

Wait a minute. It wasn't Hitler, it was Dracula.

Sorry, guys. Forget the apes.

Chapter Seven, Part 2: The Castle

Neil took a quick drag of his cigar before stepping across the wooden draw bridge and looking down at the water below. Never in his life had he seen such a thing, but it was true - this castle was overrun - with The Undead!

Rubbing his head, Neil sighed and plopped down on the ground. "I wasn't aware that the undead were capable of such overzealous ability to come to life, nor that one could indoctrinate them with human intolerance."

A few explosions went off in the castle, rocking the earth and the air and sending the smell of fire everywhere. Wolf howls began to go off. Neil grudgingly kept walking and spat the half-smoked cigar onto the nearby grass. "They'll be coming for me soon. I guess I'd better get moving."

He made his way into the castle territory, and swept away some stray hair, revealing his forehead. Just as he got in, the drawbridge came crashing to a close and a bunch of The Undead on motorcycles came pouring in after him. "Oog heil!" they yelled through streams of dust as they drove straight for Neil, toting swords, which their thin, bony fingers would easily fit around.

"It begins!" yelped Neil as he pulled out his sword, starting his feet and pulling quickly away from the site.

He thought back to the start of all this. He had killed Dracula, but now The Undead wanted to revive Dracula again, sending Europe into an age of war and racial oppression.

Chapter Seven, Part Three: The Undead

"Oog heil!" the Undead warriors shouted as they drove around Neil on their motorcycles.

"What is this?" Neil asked, scratching his head. "Do I have to fight you?"

"Oog heil!" they screamed again, drawing closer and closer.

"What the hell is 'Oog Heil'?!" Neil shouted. "Seriously!!"

"...Oog heil?" an undead asked, coming to a sudden hault. The others all crashed into him and went flying everywhere.

"Well, I guess I win," Neil said, moving along.

There was a staircase in front of him that led to a platform. The platform extended for about ten feet before dropping off.

"Ah, so that's how it is. Dracula's first and undoubtedly most deadly of all traps," Neil said as he approached with caution. "But I'll play your game, you rogue."

He came right up to the steps and stared (haha get it, staired?) at them in deep thought for several minutes. He then looked up to the top of the platform. There was a candle there. After that he looked on the underside. There, too, was a candle. Thoughts, instincts from thousands of generations of Belmonts cried out to him, but they fell on deaf ears.

"What... am I... supposed... to DO?!" Neil cried out, staring at both the lower and higher path, each with their own candle and each leading to the same place. "Dracula, you malicious bastard! I'll solve your riddle yet! The only way to endure your trap is to make sure that I take NEITHER path!!"

With that, Neil stepped several feet into the foreground and walked by the stair thingy, missing both candles but avoiding this mysterious "trap" he so greatly feared. With that, Neil continued towards the Castle of Count Adolf Hitler, committed to ending his reign of horror once and for all until the next time he is revived.

What will happen next?! Will Churchill form a treaty or will he hold out for his suffering nation's integrity? Is the yeti real, or did he just make up the rumor about himself for attention? How many Wookiees does it take to screw in a light saber? Can I count to four? Read the next chapter and find out the answers to these and two other presently undisclosed questions!!


	8. Labyrinth of Blood

Once upon a time, a darkness engulfed our... oh. Wait. This is chapter 8. I should have already said all this stuff.

Neil was now through the gate of Dracula's castle, and he had his task cut out for him. He'd have to wander the countryside within the castle grounds until he could find the castle itself. Even though it was that big huge thing up in the distance, the one at the end of an imaginary straight line starting at his feet, Neil wasn't sure he was up to this. There would probably be shiny things, or tasty things, off in various directions that weren't forward, and when he went in those directions for those things, it would be the beginning of the end.

Anyway, he wandered until he reached a hedge maze. "Whoo! Mazes! I'm really bad at these!" he cheered, running straight into the opening of the maze with his arms raised above his head.

About ten seconds later, he came running back out, letting out another "Whoo!" followed by "I did the maze!"

Neil kept going, although he was really just going back the way he came. Before long, he reached something which sent a ripple of fear through his frozen body. "My god... it's..."

The stairs, with the platform, and the two candles, only he was coming from the opposite way this time.

"It's a BACKWARDS DEATH TRAP!" he yowled, clutching the sides of his head. "Oh no, oh no, what do I do... this time I can't even take the stairs unless I go through first... unless..."

Brilliantly, Neil walked up to the platform and jumped at it. He couldn't get high enough to get on, of course, and any attempt to grab onto the edge lasted so shortly and accomplished so little that it did not even warrant a graphical representation.

"Bollocks!" Neil spouted, pacing back and forth in dismay. "Dracula's a smart guy, after all. I can't just try the same thing I did last time and go around. Surely he'll have some insidious, bearlike weapon that will steal my packed lunch and talk like that goofy guy from The Honeymooners. The second I go around, BAM. Hanna Barbara will be a household name."

Distressed, Neil knew he would need help. Maybe a better plan, maybe more equipment, maybe some sort of White Crystal he could buy in town, or maybe a friend who could figure this out for him, even though he was pretty sure he was smarter than most of his friends, and he was also kind of sure he didn't have any friends, which, if true, would strongly strengthen the first theory.

"That's it! I'll go back! After all, it's only the untimely ushering-in of unearthly horrors and doom! What's a few days or weeks or however bloody long it takes me to go however far back it takes to find some meager solution to this insurmountable blockade of wile and cunnery."

Neil's subconscious, realizing the dangerously proper wording coming out of his mouth, pulled a quick save and threw in cunnery instead of cunning. His subconscious then laughed, because cunnery sounds kind of like Connery, and it loves those Celebrity Jeopardy things on Saturday Night Live, but that was before the show sucked, had no more talent left, and had lousy scripts and hideous gag delivery. Neil's subconscious made a note at that moment... kill Jimmy Fallon. Kill him dead.

"I feel like killing Jilly Fammon... I mean... I have to go," Neil told himself, turning from the platform of doom and trekking back to town. He'd have to get through the hedgemaze backwards, but considering how easy and coincidentally forgotten his first trip through it was, this time was guaranteed to be easier, if not harder. Or something.

Reaching the alleged exit of the hedgemaze, Neil walked in and took a left. He took a right after that, figuring, what the hell, why not take a right. He found out why to not take a right, because now he was at a dead end. "Curses!" he complained. "Now I can't take a left OR a right!"

The idiot hero backtracked out of that path and soon found himself further into the maze, hearing the sounds of distant monsters he was probably supposed to fight later on if he ever got far enough. But now he was stuck yet again, for what seemed like the second, or maybe the eleventy millionth time.

"How will I ever find the exit? Wait! I know! Greek mythology, the thread that leads to the exit of the labyrinth! All I have to do is wait for history to repeat itself in a different spot, so that the Greek nations rebuild themselves and their folkloric events will reenact at this very place, the labyrinth quite coincidentally overlapping the hedgemaze, and the thread being strung along so that I too may escape! ...That could take awhile, though. Plus I would have to deal with the Minotaur."

A brief song:

On my way now,

Going through the maze!

Don't really know how,

Everything's a haze,

but I'm running really hard

doing my best

I got hope in my fingers

and hair on my chest!

I'm gonna make it!

make it!

make it through the maze!

-Make It Through the Maze, (C) 2005 Neil M. Belmont, Recorded in Kreskin Studios

Neil was indeed making it through the maze, or at least, he got a few steps farther than he was when he wrote that song and then performed it it live in concert at Madison Square Hedgemaze with his band The Rickshaws. It was the launch of what would be a successful but short and tragic career, when one of the members of The Rickshaws, Terrence the Small Patch of Dirt Slightly Discolored from the Dirt Immediately Around It, killed itself one hot summer night outside of its apartment in Central Hedgemaze.

"I don't know why Terrence would do it, even to this day," Neil remarked on the E! True Hollywood Story: The Rickshaws documentary, all while staring at the ground where Terrence, the inanimate cluster of dirt that he was, was still there, no more dead or alive than he'd been before this entire bizarre narration had started. "It's like... people would go out on the street and say, 'Terrence the Small Patch of Dirt Slightly Discolored from the Dirt Immediately Around It just bit... himself! You know? I mean, he was a sex symbol, he was a renegade, a hero, and he was what was holding us together, and yet he was pushed so far and he resorted to this solution."

Just then, something bursted through the hedges, a loud buzzing, rattling sound piercing his ears. It was some sort of big stalker masked murderer sort with a chainsaw. He approached Neil menacingly, the deadly impliment held over his head. He slowed as he noticed Neil completely ignoring him. Finally he reached the side of Neil, the noise buzzing right into the Belmont's ears.

"Terrence was... and this is how I would see it, anyway. Terrence was sort of like a Christ figure. Not so much similar to Christ, by any means, but in the aspect of them both being figures, I would say he had the figure element of a Christ figure, perhaps as much as Christ himself, who is THE Christ figure. You know?"

How Neil couldn't notice the inaudibility of his own voice against the defeaning chainsaw throttle was a question for the ages. But, in a mix of frustration and curiosity, the chainsaw maniac lowered his grinding, spinning blade and let it ease into Neil's shoulder.

"OW HELL!" Neil yelled, falling to the ground, blood flying, a wound in his shoulder.

Looking down at what he had done, the maniac was perplexed, losing interest and simply walking away from the downed man.

"OW HELL!" Neil yelled again, still on the floor. "Terrence... ungh... help meee..."

He blacked out for awhile, his blood staining the earth around him as well as his clothes. He woke up in the middle of the day, his eyes prying open as the hot sun shined through his lids. "Mm... Huh? Where am I... The Maze!"

He sat up, dusting himself off. He found he couldn't move his left art, which was really hurting a lot, mostly in his shoulder. He also noticed the festering wound, and an overall dizziness from blood loss.

"I need to get back through this maze and fast!" he said, hopping to his feet and continuing his quest. He left a trail of blood in his wake, and after a few hours, the whole maze was pretty much hit by the blood except for a few paths.

"Hey! It's like the red string only much more painful and trial-and-error themed! I just have to follow the trail of my blood and I'll find the way out!"

And so, with that, he followed it, taking him exactly where he'd been, which led him to the spot where he'd woken up injured. "Yes! I'm back to where I started! Now, why did I need to get here again? Oh! That's right! To get back out of the castle so I can figure out the stair puzzle!"

With that realization he somehow immediately walked through the maze and came out on the other side. Despite his belief, he was now closer to Dracula's lair, not farther, though it really didn't matter at all.

"...Hey, where'd the first stair puzzle go? ...It's GONE! It must never have really been a stair puzzle... it was the GHOST of a stair puzzle!"

A sound came from behind, and Neil turned to see the maniac again, ready for more it would seem. The man came closer, with his saw ready to tear apart more pieces of meat.

"Damn! Isn't there anything to do against this guy? Isn't there some kind of tool I could use to do to him the same kind of... not feeling as good, as he does to me with his own tool?"

He patted his sword as he thought. "Ah, damn. I'm screwed."


	9. The Touch of Death and Hookers

Last time we left Neil Belmont, he had navigated a hedge maze by covering every square inch of it while bleeding heavily from a chainsaw wound. In his mind, Neil had already gone through the hedge maze and was on his way back out. In truth, he's now officially passed through the maze, and is closer to Dracula's Castle, while thinking he's leaving to go get help to solve a riddle that doesn't exist.

But now, there's a chainsaw maniac coming right for him!

"Cripes!" yelled Neil, gritting his teeth in grim anticipation of the slaughter at hand. "Isn't there some sort of dual card spellcasting system I can use to defeat this foe?"

As if the fates themselves wished to answer his question, a squirrel launched itself out of a bush and gave a vicious bite into Neil's leg before scurrying off from whence it came.

"Cripes!" Neil yelled. "That really hurt!"

And so, Neil ran. He ran for his miserable life. The chainsaw maniac chased him down through the dark, grassy field. It was nighttime, even though Neil explicitly became tired and passed out for a sleeplike period in the last chapter. He went to sleep in the morning, and woke up at night again. Perpetual night. All-encompassing night, spreading a black veil forever across the forlorn sun and widowing the equally forlorn moon. Or something.

Wolves also hopped out of the bushes and came after Neil, but he jumped over them and they kept going. This is Castlevania, after all. I mean, damn.

Running still, Neil came across a candle floating... well, it was floating right in the freaking air. He's in a field for Christ's sake, there's no walls for this candle to be attached to, but there it was. There it was and he jumped up and he broke it open with his sword, and a dagger came out. Picking up the dagger, he turned and threw it at the chainsaw maniac, who was hit but unaffected. Wait, did they have chainsaws back then? Wait, when's "then"? I never set a date on this story. Sure they did. They didn't have vampires either, so sure, give them whatever they want. There was a robot there too.

The robot said hey to Neil. "Hey, Neil," it chimed in its robotic voice.

"Yo," said Neil. I know they didn't have 'yo' back then. They do now. Mm-hmm...

Anyway, Neil then threw the dagger at the chainsaw maniac again. He then gazed up at the heavens and scratched his head. "Didn't I already throw it? How'd I do it again?" he asked, not noticing that even still it was RIGHT THERE IN HIS HAND. In fact, in scratching his head, he had stabbed himself right in the head. Blood was pouring everywhere.

"Is it raining?" Neil asked, feeling moisture on his hand. He took a look at his hand, seeing the blood all over it. "Maybe some silly Cherubim got into God's 'Big Jar of Rain' which he waters our crops with and monsoons the heathen spice islands to death with, and they put some red food coloring in it just to be extra funny! Hee hee! Silly angels. Maybe if they weren't so busy with their little games and pranks, they could save mankind from the unholy abomination of the living damned so that I wouldn't have to. ...The bastards."

It struck Neil at this point, Neil being rather a Kool-Aid connoseiur from running the Belmont Kool-Aid stand so often, that perhaps this red substance was Cherry Kool-Aid, his favorite flavor. After all, adding red food coloring and adding Kool-Aid mix and sugar to the Big Jar of Rain would both be about equally likely. Angels did love sweet, sweet taste, after all. Or at least, Neil was arbitrarily inclined to think so at this time.

Raising the bloody, knifebound hand to his face to taste the blood and see if it was Kool-Aid, a voice called out to him in his head.

"Hey, dummy! What if that's blood! You'll be no better than the vampires you exist to slay!" It was Neil's own voice, in other words, one he never listened to.

"Hey, idiot!" a slightly different voice yelled, but still Neil's. "You've still got the knife in your hand! You're gonna stab yourself in the face, and I'm gonna be the only one who feels it!"

"Oh man, what's he doing?" a third voice gasped. "Hey! Who's in charge of the eyes around here! Don't you guys ever have him look at things? Wake someone up down there fast!"

"Ugh! Would you guys shut up!" a fourth demanded. "The chances are slim enough that he'll notice that psycho about to kill him, the last thing we need is you guys distracting him! You know he never listens..."

"What do you mean, he?" a fifth voice said, much more calmly. "Don't you mean... 'we'? Aren't we all at fault here? Maybe if we'd organize ourselves, clean up our acts, and stop blaming him..."

Just then, Neil bashed the knife into his face in an attempt to lick his hand. "Ow! My goddamn hand bit my lip!" he seethed. "With a knife, even!"

"...Alright, so... can we get someone down in the eye department?" one of the voices said in somewhat of a defeatist tone, breaking a momentary lull of silence.

Just then, a guy with a chainsaw arrived upon Neil and delivered a rending blow of torment into the Belmont's body. Thrown to the ground, Neil lay bleeding and agonized, his chest torn open.

Blackness, unconsciousness... that was all to be felt.

Suddenly, a voice rang out. It was the prophet, Sirius.

"Well, Neil, you went and did it."

"Sirius?" Neil asked.

"Indeed it is I. And I'm afraid I shall bear you bad news this day, young Belmont... for - "

"Hey. Where are you?"

"I am speaking to your unconscious mind through telepathy."

"Yeah, yeah, where are you though?"

"Presently I am at my home in the Dread Valley of Azah-Kar."

"So, you're not where I am, right?"

"That's correct."

"And, I'm listening to you... from a distance?"

"Yes, I - "

"Audio media, being transmitted - "

"It's not actually audio, merely the perception of - "

"Yeah, yeah... but your name's Sirius, right?"

"Somehow, you remember that much... yes, that's my name."

"So... you're like the Sirius Satellite Radio thing."

"...Pardon?"

"You know, like with the dog. In your car?"

"Err..."

"And we'll all float on okay..."

"Neil."

"I hear it's kind of expensive..."

"NEIL!"

"Whaaat!"

"I KNOW I've told you this before. I've no interest in playing into your completely impossible awareness of assorted culture and knowledge of the future! Even though I know these things too, being a prophet and all. Your idiocy, capable of transcending the reality of its own severe limitations, and tapping into facts you have no right to know, is a danger to the very fabric of reality, and I... well.. you know what? It doesn't matter. I came to tell you that you're dead."

"...Eh? Hey, Sirius. I don't know what most of that stuff you just said was, but it ended in you saying I'm dead. Is that like a standalone thing, or is it part of the stuff I didn't understand?"

"...Standalone."

"Oh. ...Well, shit then."

"Indeed."

"So, what do I have to do? Climb a beanstalk?"

"Where the... no. I don't even care. Yes, Neil, you must climb to the top of the great beanstalk."

"Sweet."

"Goodbye, Neil. Now, I suppose I must go tell your father to prepare himself for action." With that, Sirius shuffled off to attend to his business, leaving Neil to float through a bizarre world of strange spiraling balls of light.

Knowing the rarity and peril of this situation, Neil took a daring choice and covered his mouth with his hands, speaking in a fairly cool announcer voice. "Space. Man's only form of revenge against God."

A great white light began to shine from above him, forcing him to squint and stare up into it in bewilderment. "Dearly beloved," he said, still in the deep, echoey voiceover, "we are gathered here today to ROCK AND ROLL!"

He then started to make guitar noises and bob his head intently, eyes no longer open to view the slowly encompassing purity of the other side's embrace. A warmth was spreading over his body, and the delicate whispers of angels beckoned to him. "Paging Doctor Octopus," he called out in juvenile glee, in this situation perhaps the most inappropriate comment in the history of speech.

At once, Neil was whisked from the radiance of death, brought to a sudden, chilling consciousness to stare up at the night sky above. Oddly, a patch of the sky was woman-shaped and woman-colored. Also, a woman seemed to be speaking to him in words that sounded more like not words, but instead fuzzy, harsh-smelling colors like fire and glass. The words "Are you alright?" were much akin to having one's teeth jackhammered away by their eyeballs. Fortunately, by the time the parts of Neil's brain that hated pain were back to normal, so were the parts of him that hurt.

"Can you hear me? Are you okay?"

Apparently the woman-shaped part of the sky had suddenly descended upon him in the form of a woman and had assumed the voice of the woman who had been speaking two seconds earlier.

"Hola?" Neil uttered, staring vapidly before sitting up and rubbing his head. Luckily, the knife was no longer lodged in his hand.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I don't speak Spanish!" the woman gasped apologetically.

"Eh, me neither," muttered Neil, looking her over. "What do you want?"

"Ah... My name is Annelise Silverton. I'm a servant of the church... I found you this way and I healed you."

"Duh, that's not what I asked," Neil snapped back. "I said what do you want, you filthy hooker?"

Annelise covered her mouth in shock. It's true she was quite the attractive woman, with long, elegant blonde hair and angelic features, but she didn't see how she was a hooker. Averting her gaze somewhat, she spoke in a shamed, meek tone, "I, I just want to help."

"And help you did, help by doing absolutely NOTHING." Neil shook his head angrily and stood up, dusting himself off, not noticing how his wounds were all healed without a single scar or remnant. "God, what a whore."

Annelise stood as well, folding her hands together and blushing at the shame of being called a whore. "I suppose my outfit is too revealing," she suggested, gently smoothing out the length of her dress to cover the leg-showing gap of the slit that reached up to her hip. "Although... this is the standard fare for spellcasting women."

"I'm not talking about that, dummy," Neil answered, walking up to her and pointing sharply at her chest. "I'm talking about THESE things."

The woman's face flushed and she covered her eyes with her fingers. "Y-you mean my... well... my..."

"Look at them! For crying out loud!"

This baffled Annelise, for her top showed no speck of skin aside from her neck, and wasn't tight or suggestive in the least. Nonetheless, guilt filled her. "Ah...! I'm so sorry..."

Neil scratched his head then put his hands on his hips and looked away. "Yeah. You should be. How am I supposed to fight evil with sluts like you running around geting in my way?"

She bowed and took a step backwards, about to murmur out another apology when a curiosity struck her, making her peer up gently. "Fighting evil? Th-then you're here to irradicate Castlevania?"

"O'course! I'm a Belmont, you know... ah, what the hell. Hold on, my cell's going off." Neil popped a mobile phone out of his pocket and flipped it open, looking annoyed as he barked out a "Yo."

"YOU'RE NOT A BELMONT!" Terrence Belmont yelled into the phone. "I disowned your sorry ass! ...Also, my condolences on your recent death. I heard from Sirius."

"Oh, thank you so much. My nonexistent family appreciates your support in this difficult period. But, I have to go. Seeya dad, I mean, dude." Neil hung up and looked to Annelise. "So, what's up? You love me long time?"

She didn't really get that, so she resumed the previous conversation. "Mr. Belm... or rather..."

"Call me Neil!" He smiled, and she smiled back.

"Neil, then."

"Oh, so what! Are we on a first name basis now? Who the hell are you anyway?"

"Annelise... my name's Annelise."

"Call me Neil!" He smiled; she somewhat warily smiled back.

"Alright... Mr. Belmont. I wonder if you might allow me to go with you?"

"I don't have much need for a village bicycle, but sure."

He may have been shamelessly demeaning and vulgar, but she saw the good in him, and was overjoyed at his approval.

"Together," she said softly with a brave smile and a nod. "Together I believe that we can do this."

"Whutevs," Neil blurted, waving his hand and walking off. "I'm gonna go scout ahead."

"Thank you... Neil." She watched him go with a deep admiration for his bravery and vigilance... for he was truly the hero of whom she had heard.

"Oh, by the way," Neil called back to her. Snapping to attention, she ran to catch up, eager to assist. "Hey, you listening? There's this puzzle up ahead, and..."

--------Whew---------

I added a new character... Go figure! By the way, she's not dumb. She's just quite naive and innocent and pure, trusting and tolerant... in effect, you could call her dumb, but it's not exactly the same. Don't even ask why Neil keeps calling her a whore.


End file.
